October 14, 2002 The other day, I started feeling bad for focusing mostly on the clinic in this diary, and then, I had to stop, and laugh at myself. I was feeling bad for what I was writing in -my- diary. I guess that's the problem with a public diary, no matter how hard you try and keep it for yourself, it has a way of becoming for the audience. This is me though. The clinic is such a large part of my life, and, as pathetic as it sounds to be such a workaholic at eighteen, I am happy. I have made a difference there. I have saved lives. Wow. So, as long as the clinic makes me smile, then, it will be a focus of this diary. Sometimes, I just have to remind myself who I write for. I have changed a lot, and I have been seeing that more and more lately. I've began to pull away from my Mom, she has a boyfriend, and, for the first time in a while, she no longer needs me as her crutch to lean on. I am thankful for that. I never really realized how emotionally draining it had become. I don't blame my Mom for that at all, I'm glad she had me to turn to, but, it will be nice to not have such adult worries, if only for a little while. I don't think I will ever really 'act my age' though, I think it's too late for that. Most of my friends are in their twenties, even thirties, and I am far more comfortable around them then kids my own age. I don't know, I guess that if I continue on that path, I am going to miss out on a lot of things, but, maybe I will gain some things as well. I don't really know the point of this entry, but, for the first time in a while, I just felt the need to write. Even if my words don't make sense, I just had to get it out. The sad thing is, the thing I want to write about, I am too chicken to. Or maybe, it's not that, but, just that I don't know how to say it. "Talking about love is like dancing about architecture" <-//->
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